Chapter 3

A dull throb pulsed behind my eyes, a constant, irritating rhythm fighting against the fuzzy edges of my awareness. My mouth felt dry, my limbs heavy and sluggish. A strange, sickly sweet scent permeated the room, clashing with the familiar, expensive cologne Graham always wore. It was a woman's perfume, one I didn't recognize.

I heard voices then, hushed and intimate, close by. Graham's low murmur, followed by a soft giggle. Keeley. My stomach clenched.

"She's out cold, right?" Keeley's voice, light and airy, carried clearly. "You made sure she wouldn't wake up?"

"Don't worry, my love," Graham's voice was laced with a tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. "She won't stir. She's heavy enough to sleep through anything." A pause. "Besides, she's so pathetic when she's like this. So weak."

Weak? Pathetic? My eyes, still closed, burned with unshed tears. The pain of his words was a dull echo in my drugged state.

"Good," Keeley purred. "Because you're mine, Graham. Only mine. You promise?"

"Always," he breathed, a sound of absolute devotion. "You're my one true love, Keeley. She means nothing to me. Just a convenient distraction."

A convenient distraction. The words hit me like a physical blow, even through the fog. My last shred of hope, that perhaps there was some misunderstanding, some explanation for his cruelty, evaporated. It was gone. Replaced by a vast, echoing emptiness.

I felt a tremor in the bed, a soft rustle of sheets. A wave of nausea washed over me. My body, despite its drugged state, recognized the familiar intimacy that was beginning to unfold beside me. The sounds, the movements, the oppressive scent. My heart hammered, but it was a cold, detached beat. I was numb. Utterly, completely numb.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fog in my brain began to lift. My limbs felt less heavy. I could feel the rough texture of the sheets against my skin. I could hear more clearly now, the voices more distinct.

"Are you sure she doesn't have anything on her phone?" Keeley asked, her voice laced with a sudden anxiety. "That recording from earlier... if she got anything, it could ruin me. Our contract is ironclad, Graham. If my reputation takes a hit, it's a huge financial penalty."

Graham chuckled, a dismissive sound. "Relax, Keeley. I took her phone. And she's too stupid to do anything clever with it anyway. She's just a naive little graduate student. What could she possibly have that would matter?"

My breath hitched. My phone. My old burner phone. It was tucked between the mattress and the headboard, where I' d hidden it before he came back into the room. But my work phone... the one with all the research data... that was still in my pocket. I had to protect it. It contained the cure. His cure. My life' s work.

I shifted slightly, testing my motor skills. Still sluggish, but improving. Keeley's voice was closer now. I heard the rustle of her dress. She was getting out of bed.

"Where is it?" Keeley demanded, her tone sharp. "Her work phone. She was holding it earlier. Give it to me."

"Keeley, relax," Graham mumbled, still half-asleep. "It's probably in her bag or something. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter!" she hissed, her voice rising in panic. "What if she recorded something important? The institute might be involved! I can't afford any more scandals!"

I felt a hand fumbling at my side, probing my pockets. My heart leaped into my throat. I had to act. With a surge of adrenaline, I clamped my hand over my pocket, protecting the device.

"What are you doing?" I said, my voice raspy, surprisingly loud.

Keeley shrieked, jumping back. "She's awake!"

Graham jolted upright, his eyes wide with shock. "Elise? How... how are you awake?"

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Keeley. She lunged again, her eyes wild, desperate. "Give it to me! Give me that phone!"

I twisted away, rolling off the bed. My head swam, but I held onto the phone with a death grip. Keeley grabbed my arm, her nails digging in, trying to pry my fingers open. We stumbled, a chaotic dance of panic and desperation. The room tilted. I heard a sickening crack.

We crashed through the railing of the second-story balcony.

A terrifying sense of freefall. The air rushed past my ears. My mind, even in its drugged state, instinctively moved to protect. My arms flew to my abdomen, shielding the fragile life growing within me.

A jarring, bone-shattering thud. Pain exploded through my body, a white-hot agony that consumed everything. I gasped, a ragged, desperate sound.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Graham. He was scrambling, not towards me, but towards Keeley, who lay whimpering a few feet away, clutching her arm. "Keeley! Are you hurt? My darling, are you okay?"

He didn't even look at me. Not once. I was a crumpled heap of pain and despair, bleeding onto the cold stone patio, and he looked right through me. The abandonment, the utter indifference, was a final, crushing blow.

My world went dark.

When I next opened my eyes, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I was in a hospital bed, the crisp white sheets a stark contrast to the throbbing pain in my lower abdomen. The digital clock on the wall read 3:47 AM.

Graham sat in a visitor's chair, his head bowed, his face pale and drawn. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. A flicker of something-regret? guilt?-crossed his face.

"Elise," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Thank God you're awake. You gave me such a scare." He pushed himself up, coming to my bedside. "You fell. It was an accident. Keeley... she accidentally knocked you."

An accident. His words were a sickening lie. "Don't," I rasped, my voice weak. "Don't lie to me."

He flinched. "Elise, please. Let's not make a big deal out of this. You're going to be fine. Just a few bruises, a minor concussion. The doctors said you'll recover completely." His words were rushed, dismissive, glossing over the horror of what had happened.

My gaze hardened. I would not let him control this narrative. I would not let him dismiss my pain. I would recover. And then, I would destroy him. I would protect my assets, every penny of the Morton legacy he so carelessly dismissed. I would initiate a strategic separation, then divorce him, cutting him out of my life, utterly and completely.

Graham sighed, running a hand through his hair. He walked to the door, pulling out his phone. "I need to make a call," he mumbled, stepping into the hallway.

His voice was low, but I heard it. "No, no, darling, don't worry. Elise is fine. She's just... being dramatic. She wanted something, some kind of settlement. But I'll handle it. She's not getting a dime."

He was offering me money to smooth things over. To dismiss the violence, the betrayal, the loss. My teeth clenched. He thought he could buy my silence, my forgiveness. He was wrong.

"My phone," I said, my voice stronger now, when he re-entered the room. "Where is it?"

He hesitated, avoiding my gaze. "Your... phone? Oh, it probably got damaged in the fall. Don't worry, I'll buy you a new one. The latest model."

"The contents," I pressed, my voice a cold steel blade. "The data on my work phone. If anything happens to that, Graham, I will hold you personally responsible. It's not just my reputation on the line. It's something far more important."

His expression shifted, from feigned concern to cold suspicion. "What are you talking about? What could possibly be so important on your graduate student phone?"

"You'll find out," I promised, my voice devoid of emotion. "You'll find out exactly what's on it."

He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. "Are you threatening me, Elise? After everything I've done for you?"

"I'm stating a fact," I countered, meeting his gaze head-on. "And if you continue to make this difficult, you'll regret it."

"Difficult?" he scoffed. "You're the one being difficult! You're a gold-digger, Elise, pretending to be some innocent academic. I see you now. You're just trying to extort money from me!"

I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. "I want to be discharged," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Now."

He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Fine. But don't think for a second you're getting away with this."

He walked out, muttering something under his breath. A nurse came in, her face grave. She held a clipboard, her eyes filled with a deep, unsettling pity.

"Mrs. Harvey," she began, her voice soft. "We... we did everything we could. But the fall... and the impact... you've suffered a miscarriage."

The world tilted again. Miscarriage. The word echoed in the sterile room, raw and devastating. My baby. Our baby. Gone. The life I' d instinctively protected, the tiny flicker of hope I' d unknowingly harbored in my darkest hour, extinguished.

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, tracing a path down my temple. But it wasn't a cry of despair. It was a tear of grim resolve. There was no going back now. No compromise. No second chances.

I reached beneath my pillow, pulling out my old burner phone. With trembling fingers, I deleted the damning message from Corbett, the one confirming Keeley' s identity. The one proving Graham's betrayal. No one would ever have this. No one would ever truly understand the depth of his cruelty.

A cruel, dark comfort settled over me. There was nothing left to lose. No innocent life to protect in secret. Only the cold, hard path of retribution.